The Prime Princess

First ones to get over the shock were slytherins, who stormed closer to the figure in the mud. The older Rosenbaum brother, Raiden, cast a glance on unmoving Hermione and strode to griffindors wearing soaked red and yellow robes. He wanted to murder all of them with bare hands. His brother, Tiegan, followed him, cracking his knuckles on the way, getting ready for a fight.

Draco fell to his knees onto the muddy grass next to Hermione and turned her around. Eris, Gregory, Vincent and Nemesis gathered around him and tried to move their brain cells for a while and to understand what just had happened. Few moments later Nemesis hopped onto her broom and whooshed to the castle to get Madam Pomfrey and inform Professor Snape about the incidence.

She had cast an Unforgivable… A Killing Curse… Draco’s head was spinning as he clutched to the cold figure in his hands. A Mudblood had cast an Unforgivable… Killed this creature in his hands… He felt nothing but a distant ache scraping his throat. Rain washed away his salty tears burning his eyes but Draco even didn’t realize he was silently crying. Gregory put his large hand on his shoulder and squeezed it for condolence and went with Eris and Vincent into fight with Griffindor.

Draco was drained from all feelings. For a moment he ceased to exist on emotional level. A bloody fight was going on behind him but he didn’t hear its yelling, cursing or fists connecting to another ones jaws. They weren’t real anymore for him. The only real thing right then was Hermione and she was gone. A simple dirty Mudblood took her away from him and left him empty, motionless, frigid.

“I’m so sorry,” he managed to say and cradled her white face against his chest. Fumbling with his soaked cloak, he pulled out his wand and raised it to his temple.

“Mister Malfoy!” boomed professor Snape’s voice over the pitch as he, Madam Pomfrey and Blaise Zabini strode over the field. “What on Earth were you thinking?” he demanded, casting Expelliarmus on Draco. Next he went to disarm others trying to rip each other’s hearts and throats out. Madam Pomfrey pushed Draco aside and checked Hermione for any life signs. Blaise turned to look at Draco who was slumped in the mud and just sat there miserably.

“What just happened?” asked Blaise and crouched in front of him. Draco was silent and held his eyes on Madam Pomfrey covering Hermione with a conjured white sheet and levitating her onto a stretcher.

“Hey, I asked you a question!” Blaise raised his voice and was tempted to hit him across the face to knock some sense into Draco. “Do you even hear me?” Getting no answer, he got up and went straight to first slytherin laying in the mud, cursing griffindorks for broking his nose. He pulled Tiegan to his feet and glared at the Chaser.

“Now, you listen,” he used his best Italian mobster look, “What happened here?”

“Um… I ah… Well…” faltered the younger Rosenbaum and tried to find his voice and also his memory of the event. “We left the changing-room, went to the field. I remember her getting on broom and flying off towards Potter.”

“Aa,” made Blaise and glanced at leaving Madam Pomfrey. “So there was no Ball before this?”

“What? She went to catch the ball!”

“Huh?” Blaise was not sure if they were even talking about the same thing. “Ah, the Snitch!” he finally got it.
***
News about attacking Hermione Ariston spread quickly over Hogwarts and soon everyone knew who was behind it. Carmen Granger was in Head Master’s office and while she was interrogated, the whole school was a nuthouse. Slytherins accused griffindors for murdering their best Seeker ever; ravenclaws supported them as hufflepuffs stepped onto griffindors side. Every Prefect was out to get the situation under control but the two sides had started a war. Huge groups of students faced each other in different places in the castle and beat each other up as best as they could. Professors were outnumbered as they rushed from one fight to another and used unarming and binding spells to suppress the situation at hand. Argus Filch demanded the right to put them all into shackles and hang upside down from the dungeon ceiling.

Blaise got some six-year hufflepuffs under control when another fight occurred among griffindors and ravenclaws on the fourth floor. Running up the stairs, he noticed that even the people on paintings were arguing like mad. He gritted his teeth and cursed the day Dumbledore had sent him the badge in the envelope among list of acquired stuff needed for school year. Instead he wanted to stand outside Head Master’s door and eavesdrop on the thing going on with Granger. Was she expelled? Certainly! Was she sent to Azkaban? She surely was at proper age for that!

“Will you stop that already!!!” yelled Blaise as he ran into fight sending several curses and students flying.
***
“Ariston wanted to kill Harry!” protested Carmen as she cried her eyes out hearing Head Master’s strict decision. Dumbledore had sent an urgent letter to the Minister of Magic to take young Miss Granger in front of Wizengamot, escorted by several Aurors.

“Miss Granger!” scolded professor McGonagall in a harsh tone that made the Head of Slytherin House smirk.

“Did you see Miss Ariston pointing a wand at Mister Potter?” asked Head Master as he looked into her brown eyes and further into her mind. The answer was still the same.

“Answer him!” demanded Snape with hate in his voice, as he was tired of waiting.

“No,” mumbled Granger and bowed her head in shame. “She had no wand.” She had attacked a defenseless student when she as a Head Girl should have protected the weak ones. Professor Dumbledore slouched into his armchair and sighed as he looked over his glasses at previous Head Masters on the walls of his office. Had he done the right choice naming her Head Girl? How could have he been such stupid old man and not seen behind the crooked smile and bushy hair to recognize she was not fit for that job. Self-tutored Muggle born and nothing more… But Dumbledore refused to loose his faith in Muggle borns. Well, not yet anyway, but still. The ambitious Miss Grangers had proven her kinds instability when it came to rumors, conspiracies and above all – revenge.

“Miss Granger, your badge, please,” he told in raspy voice. Snape couldn’t hide his triumphant smirk as McGonagall huffed in anger and in huge disappointment that her student brought to her House. Carmen Granger had soiled the name of Griffindor! She had no right to be in her House anymore.
***
Draco saw Ministry’s officials come to Hogwarts and leave with screaming and kicking Granger. Potter and Weasley had tried to stop them but with no use. She was already condemned in their eyes and that was enough for the Minister to throw away the key of her cell.

Pulling the cloak closer around him, Draco left the Bell Tower and returned to Hospital Wing. Still everything inside his head was in white haze. Looking around he saw dozens of students screaming at each other, using words that should have invoked fury inside him but instead left him dull.

He was on the verge of oblivion; temptation to let everything go was too great. Draco could still remember her weight on him, her fading musky scent, and her leaving warmth… Her cold cheeks as his trembling fingers brushed off wet curls from her face. The only thing that kept him going; the only one that kept him competing, fighting… living. And now she was gone and his meaning of life had gone with her.

Staggering past shooing Madam Pomfrey, he crawled onto one unoccupied bed and curled into tight ball, hugging himself. Madam Pomfrey kicked the door shut and growled as some students wanting to invade the Hospital Wind by knocking down the door. When was this madness going end? Too many injured students were sent to her, as they got hurt in fights in the name of Granger and Ariston. Madam Pomfrey shook her head as she walked to Draco and conjured a warm blanked over him.

It was already 3.30 AM but the brutal protest rally was still not over. The two sides were restless as they were determined to use everything to convince opponents the other way around.

“Young hearts,” sighed Madam Pomfrey and let herself in to a hidden room that was lit only by few tall candles. In the middle of it was a granite altar covered with white sheet. This was the closest thing to a morgue as it got in school. Lifting one end, she looked into an ashen face of once radiant Hermione Electra Rhiannon Ariston.

“Such a waste,” told Madam Pomfrey to her and turned around to take a bowl with water and a washing cloth. Staring at the shelves, she found a bottle she was looking for and poured the mixture into the water. Turning around again, she soaked the cloth and started to wipe her face clean from mud. When her parents came, she wanted Hermione to look her best for not to remind them how horribly she had died. The potion in the water brought up the healthy pink color on her skin and made her look like she was just sleeping.

Yes, sleeping. Forever.
***
With bruised jaw and bride came Blaise into Hospital Wing and collapsed onto nearest bed. Something mumbled under him but he didn’t care as it was 5 o’clock in the morning and he needed his beauty sleep and one hell of a good potion for splitting headache and for his battered limbs. One mediwitch came right to him and started to tend his minor injuries. Rolling himself over his back, he finally figured out that the damn hospital cot was rather lumpy. And grumbling back at him.

Grabbing at the blanket, he pulled it aside and found Draco under it. The poor fellow looked all messed up as he stared into nothingness with blank expression. Dark circles around his hollow eyes made him look ghastly.

“Hey, mate, ya alright?” asked Blaise and nudged him a bit as the mediwitch rubbed some ointment over his neck and started to massage his shoulders as she had gotten rid of some of his robes. Clearly the young witch had hots for the hansom and rich Italian but at that moment Blaise was blind to even see her attempts to make him feel good.

“Draco?” The blond wizard didn’t answer. His pale silver eyes closed as he sighed and Draco gave in. Blaise noticed as he went limp.

“Draco!” yelled Blaise, ripped free from mediwitch’s grip and crawled over to Draco. Grabbing at his shoulder, he was able to push him over his back and shook him violently.

“Draco! Come on! Wake up! Don’t you dare to desert me too! Get over this! Draco!” screamed Blaise into his face without noticing tears running over his cheeks. Slapping hard at him, he continued his assault on Draco until frightened mediwitch called for Madam Pomfrey who came to them in a rush.
***
The metallic smell of the snow confused him at first. He was laying on the stage of the Opera House beaten half to death. In the mess of snowstorm he suddenly distinguished dark figures coming closer through the center lane of the ground floor. Through the howling wind he was able to hear clinking steps marching in determined manner. Over the rows of bolstered chairs leaped hazy steel-gray spots that made quick side-jumps and then again pressed themselves under the sides of their masters.

Draco’s conscience told him to get the hell out of there but he was nailed to the spot. The freezing cold awoke him completely as he was already covered with an inch of snow. From the hall he heard heavy panting and snorting. His gaze fixed itself on a complete set of drooling fangs pointed at his face, telling him if he tried something, his face would be bitten off.

The vaporized breath of Cu Siths whirled around him in the frozen storm. Snowflakes were hanging still in the air as everyone’s attention was on him.

There was so many of them, he realized and didn’t even try to count all the Ancients. The coldness and darkness had come with them and it seemed to suck all the heat and life out of everything. Draco admitted he was scared. His insides turned into oppressive ice while his brain screamed at him to run for life in any direction as long as it was away from them.

Finally he picked himself up from the stage and was about to get on his feet as he met the face of an Ancient. Motionless and featureless face of dark mist swirling over the white scull like second skin, twirling lazily around empty eye sockets. Two emerald lights burned instead of eyes as they stared at Draco under the black hood of the cape.

Ancients’ presence left him feeling cut off from the entire world.

The pitch-black had swallowed Draco and the only thing he saw, were those ghostly eyes that never blinked. Fear narrowed his vision, as they were only ones burning his nerve endings with ice-cold pain.

‘You don’t belong here,’ told a rough voice inside his head that finally woke him up.

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A/N: Congrats to Belarus, Macedonia, Slovenia, Hungary, Georgia, Latvia, Serbia, Bulgaria, Turkey and Moldova for getting in to Eurovision Song Contest Finals!!! Sadly Estonia didn't make it but still, go Gerli!